A Swing and a Miss

Usually, when I ride my bike, I like to break down the previous day’s White Sox game. But, this season, why bother? Still, it was a nice forty miles. Later, we went over to Clare and Chris’s to watch the Home Run Derby; this is more a mother-daughter than a father-daughter thing; I just don’t get it. Still, better to keep peace in the family. Maybe my grandson will see a swing that he’ll make his own. In fact, maybe that’s what happened with his mother. We talked about Pat Fitzgerald over hotdogs. How does someone screw up so badly? Here was a man who had a shot at being the head football coach at Northwestern in perpetuity, and he apparently turned a blind eye to team hazing. In life, it’s not only what you know, but also what you should know, and a coach should know what’s happening in his locker room. At the very least, say something, either in defense or admission. Bu nothing from Fitzgerald, outside admitting surprise at his termination and announcing he’s secured legal counsel. How profoundly sad.